A Regular Joe
by pat weakley
Summary: A 60's Green Hornet Story. A new man has come into Casey's life and proposes marriage. Is he as dirty as Britt thinks he is or is Britt merely jealous?
1. I

_**The events in this story take place after the last episode of the Green Hornet TV series and a few months before the events mentioned in the prologue of Seeds of Destiny.**_   
  
  
  
  
  


A Regular Joe   
  


I   
  
  
  


Joe Brown critically examined his reflection in the men's room mirror after washing his hands. Sucking in his gut, he buttoned his dark-blue suit jacket to better hide the result of too many apple pies and hot fudge sundaes. He tightened and straightened his navy blue tie. The tie was pencil-thin, too thin according to current fashion which favored wide tie-dyed monstrosities. That is when a tie was worn at all instead of a scarf that was worn cowboy fashion with an open-necked shirt. He removed his hat and ran a hand through his dark brown hair, smoothing down a cowlick that, as usual, refused to lay flat. Although cut far too short, again according to current fashion, he had once been told that his hair was one of his best features, along with soft brown eyes that seemed to inspire the mothering instinct in every woman he had ever met. Someone, perhaps it had been the hennaed redhead at the A & P grocery store, had called them puppy dog eyes.   
  


Mother had not approved of the brassy checkout girl and so Joe had quickly discouraged any interest on her part. _Still_, he thought with a sigh, _she had not seemed such a bad sort. Still, Mother's disapproval had been quite clear . . . _   
  


He shook his head clear of the idle memories. They were part of the past. Now that Mother had departed this vale of tears he was entirely on his own. It would be up to him to make decisions about whom he would and would not court, how he would dress and how he would cut his hair. A whole new life was spreading out before him.   
  


Replacing his hat, he drew himself up straighter, throwing back his shoulders and his chest forward. Again he critically examined his reflection. _Don't look too bad after all, _he thought. Except the hat. It was all wrong. Its narrow brim made him look like a pinhead. Glowering at the hat, he took it off and mashed it into a nearby trash can with a satisfying clang of the swinging lid. _To hell with catching a head cold. Nobody wore hats these days anyway. If JFK hadn't worn one, why should I?_   
  


Finally feeling ready, he left the men's room, crossed the lobby, passing a large metal globe and entered a door marked Britt Reid, Publisher. Inside the anteroom the desk bearing the nameplate with Lenore Case's name was empty. Joe had not expected that. He checked his watch, six o'clock. She had said she would be ready by 5:30. He rocked back on his heels in indecision about entering the inner office unannounced. Usually he would have found a magazine, a chair and settled in to wait for however long was necessary. That was the old Joe Brown, but he was turning over a new leaf. He was no longer going to be a Milquetoast, a doormat that everyone felt free to step on.   
  


Summoning all of his courage, he took a deep breath. It was better to be thought too pushy than to be thought a wimp. He turned the door knob and boldly stepped inside. Immediately he regretted his rashness.   
  


The man resting his hip on the odd oval desk stopped talking and shot a look at Joe that withered him right down into his shoes. He was as tall as Joe, perhaps even a few inches taller, but where Joe was soft and slightly overweight, the man was broad shouldered and narrow hipped. A pale blue well-tailored suit showed off his athletic build and complimented his dark tan.   
  


Obviously this was Lenore's boss, Britt Reid. What disturbed him most about the publisher was not so much his stereotypical tall, dark and handsome looks, but the pale blue-green eyes. Those eyes seemed to bore into Joe's very soul, stripping him down to nothing and finding him totally wanting. Joe swallowed a few times. His mouth had gone dry. Even if his frozen brain had managed to think of something to say, he wouldn't be able to squeak out even a word.   
  


"May I help you?" the publisher said as he moved off the desk with the grace of a tiger. Joe felt the hot flush of embarrassment creep over his face as he opened his mouth and nothing came out.   
  


He was seriously considering beating a hasty retreat when an angelic voice cut through his mental fog.   
  


"Oh, Mr. Reid, this is my date, Joe Brown. He was to pick me up at 5:30," Lenore Case said as she fluidly rose from the chair where she had been taking dictation. The pale pink suit fitted her slender figure perfectly, showing off her shapely legs with a skirt that was several inches above her knees. Her red-gold hair was piled high in a french twist.   
  


"5:30?" Reid echoed, shooting a quick glance at his watch. "I'm sorry I kept you so late. I should've remembered you telling me you had a date tonight." He strode across the room to Joe, offering his hand, "Please accept my apologies, Mr. Brown."   
  


"It's okay, Mr. Reid," Joe said accepting the publishers hand. He tried not to flinch from the strength of the man's grip. "I understand that Lenore has an obligation to her job, even if it does sometimes require her to stay late."   
  


Reid smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Unfortunately the newspaper business doesn't always run on an eight-hour day. But," he added, "I do realize people have lives outside of the Sentinel, so don't worry about a thing. Miss Case, we'll pick up where we left off tomorrow morning. You two go ahead and have a good time."   
  


"I'm sure we will," Joe said, "Lenore suggested we try a place near here called 'Sammy's'. After that we're going to see 'Mary Poppins'."   
  


"Sounds like you're going to have great time," Reid said charitably, even though it was obvious to Joe that 'Mary Poppins' was not exactly the publisher's idea of a movie to take a date to.   
  


"I hope you take good care of Miss Case. I consider her a very valuable employee. I'd take it very personal if you happened to make her unhappy." Even though Reid was smiling as he spoke, the hard glitter in his pale eyes told Joe just how personally he would take it.   
  


"Don't worry, Mr. Reid," Casey said taking Joe's hand into her own. She squeezed it reassuringly. "We always have a good time together." She laughed lightly, the heady scent of her perfume making Joe's head swim. "I'll make sure he gets me home early enough so that I'll be in bright and early tomorrow."   
  
  
  
  
  


Joe whispered to Lenore once they were out of the office, "I hope I didn't make any trouble for you."   
  


She shook her head. "Don't worry,"she said, patting his arm. "Mr. Reid's a real sweetheart. Sometimes he likes to come on strong. He was just teasing you." 

"I don't think he was kidding. He was dead serious. He looks like the type of man who doesn't take being crossed lightly."   
  


Joe caught a trace of something flash across her face. Was it fear, worry or something else? What was it about the publisher that made a chill run down his spine?   
  


Tossing her head, Lenore laughed off Joe's concern. The red-gold of her hair flashed in the scarlet rays of the vivid sunset. "Britt Reid is a very good man. You don't have anything to worry about."   
  


"You mean his bark is worse than his bite?" Joe suggested as he carefully watched for her reaction.   
  


Lenore smiled at his comment. Again he could see the shadow pass over her face. "I wouldn't say that exactly. It's just that Mr. Reid is not a petty or small man. He doesn't get angry at people for no reason. When he does get angry at somebody, it's for a good reason, and then well . . . He's not the type of man to take lightly."   
  


"Lenore, if he has threatened you, or if you feel afraid of him . . . "   
  


"Don't worry about me and Mr. Reid. If there's anyone I don't have to fear, it's Mr. Reid. Just like you noticed today, he's very protective of me." She laughed lightly, "If anything, I think he's a little afraid of me, or at least of making me unhappy." 

"Oh," Joe replied wondering just how close Lenore really was to her boss.   
  


Lenore shook her head, "Let's just have a good time, okay? No more talk about work or bosses. Tonight it's just the two of us."   
  


Suddenly her eyes widened, "What a lovely little car!" she exclaimed, noticing Joe's new, bright red Triumph. What did you do with your Rambler station wagon?" she asked.   
  


"I used it as a trade-in. I didn't get much for it, but with my inheritance, I was able to swing the down payment with no trouble at all. I figure the Triumph will be an excellent investment. If I take good care of it, it'll probably be worth something in the future."   
  


He opened the car door and watched appreciatively as she gracefully slid onto the passenger seat. He thanked God and miniskirts for the view of her marvelously long legs. _How could I have gotten so lucky?_   
  


__"I always wanted one of these," he explained as he climbed behind the steering wheel. "But Mother always said that a convertible was unsafe and impractical. She said a station wagon fitted our needs better."__   
  


__"But not half so much fun," Casey said with an understanding smile.__   
  


__It took him a few minutes to coordinate the clutch, gas pedal and gear shift. "I'm sorry," he said in embarrassment as they lurched out of the parking space. "This is my first standard shift."__   
  


__"Don't worry about it. I know you'll get the hang of it. You know, Joe, you better watch it," Lenore teased sweetly as she ran a finger across the back of his neck, "You might become a real rebel and start growing your hair down to the edge of your collar."   
  


Lenore's touch sent a shiver through Joe that was powerful enough to make him swerve into the next lane. For all the loud honking and curses, Joe would have challenged Heaven and Hell to feel her touch again.   
  


  
  


Kato found Britt standing outside his office on the balcony moodily watching a red sports car drive away. Even from the eighth floor he could hear the irritating grinding of gears.   
  


"Who's the square?" he asked   
  


"What?" Britt said, slowly rousing from the gloomy thoughts running through his mind.   
  


"The guy Miss Case was leaving with. I saw them getting off the elevator downstairs."   
  


"The guy's name is Brown. Joe Brown. Casey met him two weeks ago at a flower show. He was showing some miniature roses he had grown," Britt answered. "She says he's an accountant. He moved here a few months ago from up North."   
  


"You think they're serious?"   
  


Britt grimaced with distaste. "Of course not. There's no way Casey could be interested in a guy like that. He's not her type."   
  


"Right," Kato said, his dark eyes glittering with amusement.   
  


"Kato, Casey can date anybody she wants to . . . " Britt started to say.   
  


"Just like you do," Kato interjected.   
  


"Exactly," Britt agreed. "Casey and I are just friends. I'm only interested in her happiness. Nothing more."   
  


Shaking his head, Kato snorted his disbelief.   
  


"I'm not jealous," Britt denied with more force than he had intended.   
  


Kato shot him a look that told the publisher that he didn't believe him for one minute, but knew better than to say so.   
  


Britt sighed in exasperation and dropped the subject. "Did you find anything on Wrightman?" he asked, noticing that Kato had not yet changed out of the peacoat and wool knit cap he had worn to work undercover on the docks, nor had he shaven.   
  


"Your informant was right. Wrightman's in town with a lot of muscle. Word's out he's after some guy who double-crossed him and took off with some important papers of his."   
  


"Papers that might interest the Green Hornet?"   
  


"Sounds like it."   
  


"Wrightman's a tough cookie. He might not be easy to impress," Britt said thoughtfully.   
  


"That's what I've been hearing," Kato agreed.   
  


"Any weak links?"   
  


"Maybe. One of his men, a guy named Lucky Duncan, is a gambling freak. He'll bet on anything, even on whether the next day is going to be cloudy or sunny. I heard he's looking for a poker game. Nothing high stakes, just penny ante. Just something to blow some time and a few bucks on. He could also be putting out some feelers for this guy they're looking for."   
  


"How sharp is he?"   
  


"More muscle than brains. He'd be a pushover."   
  


"Interesting," Britt said thoughtfully. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"   
  


"'Fraid I do."   
  


Britt's eyebrows rose, "A hot date?"   
  


"Very hot. Mei Ling's father is finally letting me take her out. Alone. No family tagging along this time. There's a ten o'clock curfew, but at least it'll be just her and me. No kid sister to bug us."   
  


Britt gave a short laugh. "I hope you'll have time to shower and shave before you see her. I don't think her father will approve of the way you're looking right now."   
  


Kato ran a hand across the thin growth on his chin. "I don't know about the shaving part. At least not until I finish the undercover work. You might be able to grow a full beard overnight, but it took me a week to get this much. Of course I might decide to keep it anyway. I think it makes me look groovy."   
  


Britt shook his head. "We'll see if you keep it after Mei Ling takes a look at it. I'd be careful about her father though. He doesn't have any sons and he might make you an heir to his grocery store."   
  


"No way. I like things just as they are. There's not much call for Gung Fu when you're trying to sell melons to some old lady."   
  


Britt laughed at the idea of Kato trying to mix Gung Fu with the selling of vegetables. "I guess there wouldn't be much call for it, would there?" He suddenly became serious. "Uh, Kato, if you ever do become serious about getting married, I'd understand if you wanted to get out of this Green Hornet business."   
  


"And where would that leave the Green Hornet, and you?"   
  


Britt shrugged. "I have no idea," he admitted reluctantly.   
  


"So what are you planning for tonight?" Kato asked.   
  


"I was planning on taking Casey out to a late dinner after we had finished. I had forgotten about her date with this Brown fellow." He grinned crookedly. "I was planning on taking her to Sammy's, but now it looks like she'll be going with Brown instead."   
  


"Look, Mr. Reid, whys don't I cancel this date with Mei Ling. We could follow up on Wrightman tonight instead."   
  


"No, not yet. I want to check up more on Wrightman and how he operates. Tomorrow I do want you to go back undercover and spread the word about a poker game. I think it'd be a good idea if the Green Hornet asks this Lucky Duncan guy a few questions."   
  


"Sounds good. So why don't you come along with Mei Ling and me tonight? We could make it a threesome. She likes you and it'd be a lot of fun."   
  


"After all the time you've been waiting to be alone with her? No way. I'll be fine. I'll pull something out of the freezer for supper and hit the sack early. It's probably a good idea if I get to bed early once in a while."   
  


"You sure?"   
  


"Positive," Britt said firmly even though he was not really sure if he was looking forward to a night alone or not. 

  
  
  
  



	2. II

II   
  
  
  


Lucky Duncan absently rubbed the worn plastic disk between his fingers. Embedded in it was a four-leaf clover. Not an artificial one that some factory had put together out of pieces of different plants but a real one he had pulled free from the cracks of the sidewalk in front of the rat-infested tenement that his family had called home. After a hot winning streak he had left home at the age of sixteen, never looking back. He had been lucky ever since, never giving thought to those he had left behind. Nor had anyone at home ever thought about him either.   
  


He looked down the empty street in front of the Happy Time bar before he stepped out of his car. He was an hour early in order to check out the place while there was still some light left. Wrightman had told him to keep his nose clean and not to do any gambling. Lucky shrugged. A few hands of poker weren't going to hurt anything. He was feeling lucky tonight. Of course careful planning always helped the luck, so he carefully noted any avenues of a quick getaway in case of a raid.   
  


It had been a long time since the tilted martini glass on the bar's peeling neon sign had last poured its electric bubbly. So long ago, in fact, that the red letters of the large For Sale sign pounded into the overgrown planter had faded to an anemic pink. The front door was boarded over and had been plastered over with campaign posters from some election years ago. Lucky tried the door anyway, just in case, but found it solidly locked.   
  


He studied the front a few more minutes then shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked to the rear of the building. The weed-covered gravel parking lot in back looked as desolate as the front. Yellowed pieces of paper were stuck in the branches of weeds and about their bases. Rusted beer cans and broken bottles were scattered all over the empty lot. Lucky kicked at a large piece of newspaper and watched idly as a small dust devil snatched at it, blowing it around in a lazy circle. Lucky checked his watch. There was still plenty of time to take a look around inside before the game started.   
  


Although the back door seemed to be as solidly boarded up as the front one, Lucky's contact had told him otherwise. Just like the Chinese sailor had told him, the nails in the boards covering the door did not go completely through into the frame. He shot a quick glance around him, making sure that no one was watching. Then he opened the door cautiously, cringing when the rusty hinges creaked in protest.   
  


The dim light that streamed past Lucky showed a short hallway that led to a cavernous room in which he could barely see the ghostly outlines of a few scattered tables and chairs. To his left was a short alcove containing a pay phone and two doors, one of which was marked Gents, the other marked Dames. A pair of swinging doors on his right led to the kitchen. Lucky wrinkled his nose at the stench coming from the kitchen. No one had bothered cleaning up when the place had closed years ago.   
  


Knowing that it would not make sense to hold a poker game by candlelight, Lucky reached for the light switch. He drew his hand back with a slight snicker. A great idea had come to him. Why not wait for the others in the dark? That way he could surprise them when they came in. It might be just enough to give him the winning edge.   
  


Smiling at his own cleverness, Lucky pulled out his penlight and closed the door behind him. The light's thin beam was barely bright enough to guide him into the main room. Taking care not to bump into anything, Lucky cautiously swept the light back and forth as he walked across the bar's dance floor. __   
  


__Hearing a clatter that was far too loud in the darkness, Lucky froze in his tracks. He pulled out his gun and followed the penlight's beam with it as he crept toward where the noise came from. Playing an old Sinatra song, a softly lit jukebox sat in the far corner. He seriously doubted that the thing had started on its own. Suddenly stabbing out of nowhere a narrow beam of light struck a slowly rotating mirrored ball hanging over the dance floor. The air around Lucky became filled with dozens of dizzily dancing stars.   
  


"C'mon, no more funny stuff," Lucky demanded as he crouched in the center of the room. Alarm bells ringing 'trap' were echoing through his brain. "Come on out where I can see you."   
  


Lucky's finger tightened on the trigger. There was a slight scrape and a piece of the darkness moved. __   
  


__"Put the gun away, Duncan," a low deep voice commanded.   
  


"Like Hell!" Lucky roared, "Not until I can see you."   
  


"Drop it!" the voice demanded harshly.   
  


Lucky threw the penlight with a curse in the voice's direction. Briefly seeing the dim outline of a man as the light swung in the air, Lucky squeezed off several shots. __   
  


__A sharp pain in his arm made Lucky drop his gun, not so much because it hurt but because he was surprised. There imbedded in his arm was a slender green winged dart. Angrily snatching the dart out of his arm, Lucky dove for the gun on the floor. A black shoe spun the gun out of his reach just as his fingers were reaching for it. Lucky looked up to see black eyes glinting malevolently behind a black plastic mask. He gathered his feet under himself and charged at a slight man in a black chauffeur's uniform.   
  


The small man neatly sidestepped his charge and sent him back to the floor with a chop to the neck. Lucky shook his head, but the room still spun around him. The spinning stars didn't help either. He scooted on his haunches across the floor, knowing full well he was completely out of his depth. His hand struck a chair leg. Grinning wolfishly he grabbed the chair and launched himself with a roar at the chauffeur. No way was he going down without a fight.   
  


The chauffeur leaped into the air, high kicking the chair out of Lucky's hands. Another kick as he landed lightly back on the ground sent Lucky flying in the opposite direction. Lucky shakily pushed himself back to his feet as he watched the man come toward him, another one of those darts twirling in his gloved hand. Lucky kept on backing up as the small man advanced on him until his back was pressed up against the wall. He groped in his pocket for anything that might protect him, only to find his lucky charm. Hopelessly he palmed it in his hand for all the good it would do him.   
  


He raised his hands into the air. "What do you want from me?" he begged. "Shit!" he screamed, closing his eyes as the small man's hands moved in a blur, sending the dart vibrating into the wall next to his ear, leaving a small scratch on his earlobe. The lucky charm fell from his hand and rolled out of sight.   
  


"There is nothing to be afraid of, my friend," the low deep voice said soothingly. "All I want from you is a little information._"_   
  


__Lucky opened his eyes to see before him a tall man dressed in a dark green topcoat, wearing a mask similar to his tormentor's except green in color and with a green hornet on its brow. He swallowed past a hard lump in his throat. This time his gambling had gotten him in too deep. The man before him was the Green Hornet and in his hand was Lucky's four leaf clover.   
  


"Tell me what I want to know and I will allow you to live," the Green Hornet said. "For now," he added harshly.   
  


"Anything, man."   
  


"What is Wrightman doing here?"   
  


"He'll kill me if I tell you."   
  


"You don't think I'll kill you if you don't?" the Green Hornet gritted as his man took a step closer to the unlucky gambler.   
  


"Okay, okay, I'll tell you," Lucky said in a rush. "He's after some guy."   
  


"What guy?" the Green Hornet demanded impatiently.   
  


"An accountant. The guy that was keeping Wrightman's records."   
  


"What's the accountant's name?"   
  


"Brown. Joe Brown."   
  


"Why is he after this Joe Brown?"   
  


"Wrightman was running a gambling racket for the mob. He had to keep a record of what he was making so they could figure out their cut. Problem was he was keeping two sets of books. One was kept by a guy hired by the mob, the other, the real ones were done by this Brown guy. He left town a few weeks ago and it wasn't until recently that Wrightman found out that Brown had the books with him," the gambler explained.   
  


"So if the cops find the books, Wrightman could be put away for a long time," the Green Hornet supplied.   
  


"If he's lucky, yeah. But it ain't the cops he's worried about. It's the mob. If they find out he was keeping two sets of books and double-crossing them, they'll have him killed. And it won't be an easy way of dying, I'll tell you that."   
  


Pale green eyes glittered behind the Green Hornet's mask. "I want you to take a message to Wrightman."   
  


"Look Hornet, if he finds out I've been talking . . . "   
  


The Green Hornet grabbed the lapels of Lucky's jacket, pressing his face close to the gambler's, "You listen to me, Duncan. You will do what I tell you if you want to be able to see the sun rise tomorrow," he threatened. "You will take this message to Wrightman. Tell him I don't like outsiders coming into my city. If he wants to conduct business in my city, he has to talk to me first. But I'll let him slide this time, in fact, I'll make a deal with him. For a sum I will deliver both Brown and his precious books to him. I don't care what he does with them, as long as he doesn't do it in my city."   
  


"How much do you want?"   
  


"That's between Wrightman and me. You just deliver the message," the Green Hornet answered sharply.   
  


"Okay, okay, whatever you say, man."   
  


The Green Hornet nodded slightly. The chauffeur moved closer to the gambler, a contemptuous smile playing on his lips. Lucky's eyes darted fearfully from one man to the other, finding no mercy in either. He tried to press himself further into the dark paneling of the wall. Then the chauffeur's gloved hand darted out and tapped him on the shoulder. It was too much for the gambler's shattered nerves. He sank bonelessly to the floor in a dead faint.   
  


Kato knelt down and checked for a pulse. "I think I scared him," he said with a wry grin.   
  


"I think so too," the Green Hornet agreed with a ghost of a smile as he tossed the four leaf clover on the ground next to the unconscious man.   
  


Rising to his feet, Kato asked, "Do you think this Joe Brown they're after is the guy Miss Case is going out with?"   
  


The Green Hornet shook his head. "I have no idea. We'll have to check him out to find out for sure."   
  


"Are you going to tell her about this?"   
  


"Not on your life. At least not yet. I'm not about to mention this to her until I get some facts. Otherwise, she'll never believe me."   
  
  
  
  
  



	3. III

III   
  
  
  


Kato watched Casey and Joe leave the movie theater. They were walking arm in arm as young lovers like to do. He glanced back at the Green Hornet sitting in the Black Beauty's back seat. His expression was unreadable even to Kato.   
  


"It's been a week since we've talked to Duncan, Boss, and we still haven't heard a peep from Wrightman."   
  


"Tell me something I don't know," the Green Hornet answered sharply.   
  


"Could be Wrightman's split town," Kato suggested.   
  


"I doubt it."   
  


"You know we could be following the wrong Brown."   
  


The Green Hornet shook his head. "How many Joe Brown's do you think there are who have just arrived from up North? No, we have the right man. I'm sure of that. We'll keep on tailing Brown until something turns up."   
  


"We've been following them every day for the last five days. Sooner or later Brown or Miss Case is going to spot us. And if it's Miss Case, she's going to be mad as Hell at you," Kato warned.   
  


"I'll take the chance. We're sticking with them."   
  


Despite the sour look on the Green Hornet's face, Kato persisted, "Miss Case says he's a real nice guy. He gives her flowers and stuff like that all the time."   
  


"Big deal," the Green Hornet said grumpily under his breath.   
  


"She says she likes being with him because she doesn't have to play games with him like she has to with other guys. She feels like she can talk with him without everything revolving around sex."   
  


"Guy's probably as queer as a three-dollar bill," the Green Hornet growled, unimpressed.   
  


Kato shrugged. "I think she likes the way he treats her. He treats her like she's somebody special. I hear most girls like that."   
  


"So what're you, Miss Lonely Hearts?"   
  


"No, but I can kind of understand what she sees in the guy. She could do worse, you know."   
  


"Despite all of that sweet talk Brown's been handing Casey, he's dirty. I'm positive about that. We're sticking on his tail until he or Wrightman makes a move."   
  


Kato sighed, shaking his head. It wasn't Wrightman that was on the Green Hornet's mind. There would be no reasoning with him.   
  
  
  
  
  


The soft breeze blowing off the lake caught at Lenore's hair, sweeping it away from her face as she and Joe walked back to her apartment from the movie theater. The old-fashioned street lamps spreading out golden pools of light lit their footsteps without washing out the sight overhead of brilliant stars set in a velvet black sky. Lost in thought, Joe stopped for a moment.   
  


"Joe?" Lenore asked curiously, a slight crinkle forming at the bridge of her delicately upturned nose. She looked angelic in a short A-line dress of white lace and a soft white crocheted shawl.   
  


Compulsively Joe pulled her to him and kissed her. She laughed happily as she gently pulled free from his grasp. "You're getting so bold," she said playfully.   
  


Joe's face instantly fell. "I'm so sorry. Do you mind?" he asked worriedly.   
  


She shook her head, sending her hair floating about her head in golden waves. "No, I don't mind at all." She tilted her head, studying him. "I've had the feeling all night that something's on your mind. What is it?"   
  


Joe looked down at his feet as he gathered his racing thoughts, then he raised his eyes to the moon dappled lake. _It's so beautiful,_ he thought with a deep sigh. Before his courage could desert him, he suddenly knelt on one knee. Taking Lenore's hands into his own, he said, "Lenore, my dearest Lenore, it's been only two weeks since we've first met, but I feel like I've known you forever. I think about you every waking hour. I hear your name in the wind, in the song of the birds, in the crash of the waves. Lenore, Lenore. Everywhere I go I hear your name. Even in the rush of the traffic, I hear your name. Even in my dreams I see you. I see you laughing and singing and dancing. The very sight of your shadow fills me with wonder. I love you so much that all the words in the world can't describe what I feel.   
  


"I don't have much money. We'll never live in a mansion, but as long as you are with me, every place is a castle. Please, please, dear sweet Lenore, please tell me you will be my wife."   
  


Lenore gasped, stunned by Joe's plea, "Joe, I, I . . . "   
  


"Please tell me you will be mine."   
  


"Joe, please. This is such a surprise. I don't know what to say."   
  


"Say that you will marry me," Joe eagerly broke in, "I know I'm not as good-looking or as rich as your boss, and that you will never love me as much as I love you, but I promise to make you happy. I'll be helpful, kind . . . "   
  


Lenore laughed gently, placing her fingers against his lips, stopping the headlong gush of words, "Joe, I think you're starting to say the boy scout pledge. I'm only hesitating because I want more time. For the both of us. Three weeks is far too short for people to really get to know each other. We need time to find out more about each other including all our warts and pimples."   
  


"You don't have any. You're perfect, the Venus de Milo, the . . . "   
  


"Joe!" she interrupted, shaking her head. "I'm not perfect. I'm just an ordinary person, with all the faults and foibles that come with being a mere mortal. I can't say I'm not flattered by your devotion, but we need more time. I need more time."   
  


Crestfallen, Joe rose to his feet. "I take it that's a nice way of saying no," he 

said sadly.   
  


"It's not 'no', not by any means. It's just 'wait', take your time. Marriage is forever. A few months won't matter, not when measured against all time," she said very gently.   
  


"A few months," Joe repeated quietly, thoughtfully. He sighed, "I'd wait an eternity for you."   
  


"You're hopeless," she said fondly.   
  


"I'm hopelessly in love. With you," he replied.   
  


She wrapped an arm around him. "It's getting late. Will you walk me home or do I have to get tough on you?" she teased playfully.   
  


  
  
  
  


Joe remained deep in thought after he had taken Lenore back to her apartment. He was heartened by the fact that she had kissed him goodnights, but he still had not dared suggest that they talk for a while over a nightcap. _Perhaps_, _she_ _was right_, he thought, _perhaps we do need some more time_. Even after two weeks he still did not feel comfortable enough to step a foot her home.   
  


Dejectedly shoving his hands into his pockets he watched the cars in the street. The traffic never seemed to stop in this city. No matter what the time, people were always going somewhere and always they seemed to be in a hurry to get there. Lenore Case was the only decent thing he found in this big, cold city. He decided that when she did finally consent to marry him he would take her away from this heartless place. They'd find a safe, secure home somewhere in the country.   
  


His frown deepened. There, again, parked across the street was that black limousine. For the past week, it seemed like no matter where he was, it was always around. It was just like the city; powerful, elegant, sleekly modern, yet classic. All the while it bore a subtle aura of menace, haunting him like an evil black ghost.   
  


He didn't like this city, and he didn't like that black car. He was sick and tired of being surrounded by grey concrete and he was sick and tired of seeing that black car. Ignoring the honking of horns and shouted curses, he strode purposely across the street toward the car.   
  
  
  


"Come out, you coward!" he screamed as he kicked and banged on the car, "I've had it with you! Get out of the car!"   
  


The rear door on the opposite side of the car opened and out stepped a tall man dressed in a dark green topcoat and matching snap-brim fedora. Noticing the green mask with a green hornet on its brow, he felt the angel of death's cold breath shiver down his spine. Joe stepped back a few paces only to find himself trapped in the iron grip of a black-clad, black masked chauffeur. The chauffeur wordlessly escorted Joe to the sidewalk to face the masked man.   
  


"Do you have any idea who I am?" the masked man asked.   
  


Trying to avoid those chilling green eyes, Joe nodded. "Yes," he croaked, "You're the Green Hornet."   
  


The Green Hornet gave the chauffeur an almost imperceptible nod and Joe felt the grip on his arms loosen.   
  


"What is your name?" the Green Hornet asked.   
  


"Uh, Joe Brown."   
  


"What do you want, Joe Brown? I am not accustomed to people assaulting my car."   
  


Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Joe forced himself to return the Green Hornet's even gaze. "I was going to ask you the same thing. What do you want from me?"   
  


"I have no interest in you. Yet," the Green Hornet replied.   
  


Joe shot a quick glance at Lenore's apartment building. He noticed the Green Hornet following his gaze. "If you mean to harm Miss Case, so help me, I'll . . . "   
  


"You'll what?" snapped the Green Hornet.   
  


Joe heard the scrape of the chauffeur's shoves on the pavement and the soft hiss of intaken breath. The Green Hornet shook his head slightly and Joe sensed the chauffeur relaxing. It didn't make him feel any safer.   
  


"You'll what?" the Green Hornet demanded again.   
  


"I don't know. Exactly," Joe said, "But if you hurt so much as a hair on her head, I'll hunt you to the ends of the Earth."   
  


"Brave words, my friend," the Green Hornet murmured, "Sounds like you love her very much."   
  


"I'd do anything for her."   
  


"Then stay away from Wrightman. He's looking for you," the Green Hornet warned. Without another word he and his man slipped back into the car.   
  


Puzzled by the Green Hornet's words, Joe watched the car pull silently away, making him wonder if the odd meeting with the master criminal ever happened.   
  
  
  



	4. IV

  
  


IV   
  
  
  


"Don't you dare deny it!" Casey said angrily as she cornered Britt Reid at his desk.   
  


"Deny what?" Britt asked.   
  


"You know perfectly well 'what'! I saw you there with my very own eyes."   
  


"Saw me where?"   
  


"In front of my apartment. You and Kato followed Joe and me from the Rialto all the way to my place."   
  


"Oh, that."   
  


"Yes, that. How dare you do such a thing as follow us around in the Black Beauty. What was the big idea anyway? I can't believe you'd do such a terrible thing."   
  


"Casey," Britt said trying to sound reasonable, "I think you're getting all upset over nothing."   
  


"Am I? Joe is the kindest, sweetest man I have ever known. What would he think if he saw you?"   
  


Crossing his arms across his chest, Britt smiled wryly. "He did see us."   
  


"Oh, no. What id you do to him? He is so sensitive."   
  


"Sensitive? It's the first time somebody ever dared to kick the Black Beauty. If Kato hadn't been there, I think your sweet, sensitive Joe would've punched me in the nose."   
  


"Punched you? Didn't he realize who he was facing?"   
  


"He did after the Green Hornet got out of the car. For a moment I think he did have a few doubts, but something had him so angry that I don't think they much mattered to him."   
  


Casey blinked in disbelief. "I didn't realize . . . " she said softly to herself.   
  


"That guy seems to be very fond of you," Britt commented.   
  


Smiling wistfully, she said, "Yes, he is. He proposed to me last night."   
  


"Marriage?"   
  


"Yes, of course."   
  


"You didn't accept did you?"   
  


"No, I didn't," she replied sadly.   
  


"Good."   
  


"Why?" Casey asked.   
  


"Well, he's not exactly your type," Britt answered.   
  


"And what exactly is my type?" Casey demanded. "And why in the world were you following us?" Her eyes widened, "That's it, isn't it? You're jealous. You were tailing us because you were trying to scare him away."   
  


"Oh, c'mon, Casey. You know that's not it."   
  


"Then what is it?"   
  


Chewing on his lower lip, Britt tried to avoid looking into her accusing eyes. _I was afraid this was going to happen,_ he thought. "It's something I've been working on," he admitted.   
  


"As the Green Hornet," Casey supplied.   
  


Britt nodded. "I think your Joe Brown might be involved with Terrence Wrightman, a crime boss from upstate."   
  


"You can't expect me to believe that."   
  


"Casey, you know I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. If you weren't so ga-ga about this Brown guy, you'd realize I'm telling you the truth."   
  


"Do you have any proof?"   
  


"No, not really, but . . . "   
  


"I see," she interrupted sharply.   
  


"No, you don't see anything at all. You haven't even given me a chance to explain. I don't want you to make a mistake that you might regret for the rest of your life."   
  


"I've already made a mistake."   
  


"What mistake?" Britt asked worriedly.   
  


Casey turned to leave Britt's office. "I made the mistake of saying 'no'. I'm going to go tell him I was wrong."   
  


"Casey," Britt said, grabbing her arm, "You can't be serious. You're angry right now, give yourself a little time to cool off," he urged. "Please give me a little more time."   
  


Casey roughly pulled her arm free. "I've already given you 'time'. Six years of it. No more. I've made up my mind." She paused a moment longer at the door. "By the way, don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your 'little' secret," she bit out.   
  


"Casey, please!" Britt shouted as she slammed the door.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kato watched Britt out of the corner of his eye. During the entire time they were preparing for another night out in the Black Beauty, he had remained locked in angry silence. _This is ridiculous,_ he thought with a sigh. _I hate to bug him when he's stewing about something, but there's no way this is going to go on for the whole night. _   
  


"Look, Mr. Reid, why don't you tell me what happened at the paper today."   
  


Britt stared at the Black Beauty rising from its underground berth without answering.   
  


"C'mon, something must've happened. You've been in a rotten mood ever since you got home."   
  


"Nothing happened," Britt gritted, "Let's just get going, okay?"   
  


"Not until you tell me what happened."   
  


"Drop it, Kato."   
  


"Mr. Reid . . . "   
  


"All right. If you feel like you got to know," Britt growled, "Casey saw us tailing her and Brown."   
  


Kato gave a low whistle, "Boy, she must've been sore."   
  


"Yeah, she was. She refused to believe me when I told her that Brown might be involved with Wrightman. She thinks I was using the Green Hornet to scare off Brown because I was jealous of him."   
  


"I see," Kato murmured, thinking that Miss Case might have been at least a little right about Britt being jealous, even if he didn't think he was. "And then what happened?" he asked.   
  


Britt sighed, "She got angry at me and said that she was going to marry Brown."   
  


"Is that bad?"   
  


"Of course it is. I can't believe she actually loves the guy."   
  


Kato shrugged. "Maybe she's tired of waiting."   
  


"That's what she said, but waiting for what?"   
  


"For you, of course."   
  


"Me? Why?"   
  


"She's nuts about you. She always has been, but you're always so busy chasing every high society skirt that comes around you've never noticed how much she cares about you."   
  


"So according to you, and I guess her too, I'm a good-for-nothing rat," Britt said testily.   
  


"Not a rat, just blind. You've just never had any idea of how much she cares about you."   
  


"So what am I going to do about it now? Casey's turned in her resignation and said she's going to marry Brown as soon as possible."   
  


"You could tell her you love her. You do, don't you?"   
  


"I don't know, Kato. I really don't know. I know I care about her a lot, but love. I just don't know," Britt said dejectedly. His broad shoulders drooped in resignation. "The way things are now, I don't think I'll ever know for sure."   
  


"So you're going to give up?"   
  


"What choice do I have?"   
  


"You don't usually give up so easily," Kato commented.   
  


"Oh, Hell," Britt said, as he climbed into the Black Beauty, "Let's drop it for now."   
  


Kato climbed behind the steering wheel. "Where to, Boss?" he asked after the Green Hornet had finished checking the Hornet sting and the Hornet gas gun.   
  


"Wrightman. He hasn't left town and he hasn't made any response to the Green Hornet's offer. I think it's time to put some pressure on him."   
  


  
  
  
  


"Looks like our pigeon has flown the coop," Kato commented disgustedly as he stepped out of the bedroom. "All the closets are empty and so are the bathrooms. Maybe he got your message after all."   
  


"Maybe, but let's go through this place thoroughly first. If he has flown, I want to make sure it's up North and permanently," the Green Hornet replied as he walked out of the tiny kitchen. "They must've just left. There's dishes in the sink and the stove's still warm."   
  


Kato nodded and dumped a trash can onto an imitation Louis XIVth writing table. Sifting through banana peels, beer cans and cigarette butts, he spotted a crumpled piece of paper.   
  


"I got bad news," he said after he had read the paper.   
  


"What is it?" the Green Hornet asked leaning over Kato's shoulder.   
  


"I found this in that trash can," Kato answered, showing the Green Hornet the paper. "It's Brown's address."   
  


"Damn," the Green Hornet hissed under his breath. "We better get to his place pronto. I just hope we aren't too late."   
  
  
  



	5. V

V   
  
  
  


Joe rushed out of his apartment. He was hoping he wasn't too late, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he was. The presence of the evil-looking black limousine confirmed his worse fears. He angrily pounced on the green-masked man stepping out of the car. The force of his charge slammed the man back against the car.   
  


Wildly grabbing the lapels of the man's coat he screamed, "What have you done to her, you bastard?"   
  


Roughly pulling Joe's around behind his back, Kato pulled him away from the Green Hornet. No matter how hard he struggled and cursed, Joe could not get free from the iron grip.   
  


"Calm down a minute and tell me what's going on," the Green Hornet demanded when Joe had finally run out of steam.   
  


"You know damn well what's going on. You're working with Mr. Wrightman. You've been spying on us and now he's kidnaped Lenore."   
  


Feeling Kato's grasp momentarily loosen, Joe pulled free. Instead of running away he threw a punch at the Green Hornet's face, only to find that the masked man easily dodged the blow as if it was moving in slow motion. Kato quickly grabbed him again and held him in an unbreakable neck lock.   
  


"That's the only free punch you're getting, Brown. The next time you try something like that, I'll show you what a real punch is like," the Green Hornet warned with a growl.   
  


"I don't care what you do to me. Just don't harm Lenore," Joe pleaded helplessly.   
  


"Tell me what happened," the Green Hornet asked.   
  


"You're not working for Mr. Wrightman?" Joe asked as he continued to pull at Kato's arm around his neck.   
  


"No, I'm not. I don't work for anybody."   
  


"Then why are you interested in us?"   
  


"Let's just say I'm protecting my turf," the Green Hornet answered sharply.   
  


Joe struggled for a few more moments, then gasped, "I can't talk like this."   
  


The Green Hornet nodded slightly and Kato released his hold. Joe noticed that the chauffeur stayed close by, just in case he decided to attack the Green Hornet again.   
  


"Out with it," the Green Hornet demanded.   
  


"Uh, Lenore, uh, Miss Lenore Case, that's the pretty woman you've been seeing me with . . . "   
  


"Get to the point, Brown."   
  


Joe took a deep breath, ordering his thoughts. "Okay. We were having dinner when I realized I had forgotten to buy some ice cream for the cake. When I got back from the store, she was gone and my apartment had been ransacked. I found a note from Mr. Wrightman. It says he wants the books in return for her safe return."   
  


"Do you know what books he's talking about?"   
  


"Yes, I used to work for Mr. Wrightman as his accountant."   
  


"Did you know he was involved in illegal gambling?"   
  


"No, not really, although I did have my suspicions," Joe admitted.   
  


"But you never told the police about them?"   
  


"I thought about doing that, but the pay was very good. It allowed me to work out of my home and take care of my invalid mother. Besides, I always thought gambling was a victimless crime. Just like in Las Vegas, except there the state gets its share of the money as taxes. Either way, the people who lose a lot of money deserve what they get for acting so foolishly in the first place," Joe explained, suddenly realizing how self-righteous he sounded.   
  


"You haven't seen what people like Wrightman do to those people who can't make good on their debts," the Green Hornet said grimly.   
  


"I guess you're right. Especially after what has just happened."   
  


"Why did you run off with the books?"   
  


"I didn't actually 'run off' with them. Or at least not with Mr. Wrightman's copies. I always make copies of everything I do. It's mainly for security. They would be extremely difficult to replace if there was a fire or some other kind of destruction, so by making copies I can have a way to replace them if I had to."   
  


"I see, so what Wrightman's really after are your copies of his books."   
  


"I guess so, but what am I going to do? I can't trust him to let Lenore go after I give him what he wants. I know he'll try to kill us both."   
  


The Green Hornet smiled grimly. "That's where I come in," he said, "I'll act as a go-between. I'll see to it that Wrightman gets what he wants and that you and your girlfriend get out of this in one piece."   
  


"But what will you get out of this?"   
  


"Simple. I stand to make a very quick and easy profit for a short night's work. Wrightman will have to pay me a finder's fee for the books and you will pay me a thousand-dollar insurance fee."   
  


"Insurance?"   
  


"Insurance that you and your girl won't get hurt." When Joe seemed hesitant, the Green Hornet added, "I have been known to ask much, much more for my services, but in your case I'm making allowances. I have a soft spot for romance."   
  


"But I don't have a thousand dollars handy. Uh, you wouldn't take a check, would you?" Joe asked.   
  


The Green Hornet shook his head.   
  


"No, I didn't think so." Joe sighed. "I'll have to go to the bank to get the money, but tomorrow's Saturday and that's when Wrightman wants me to turn over the books."   
  


"No problem, you can pay me after the bank opens on Monday. It's not so much I trust you, it's just that I know you wouldn't be so stupid as to try to double-cross me," the Green Hornet replied.   
  


Joe realized that even though he had the uneasy feeling he could not trust the Green Hornet, he had no choice but to do so. Forcing himself to look square into those disturbing green eyes, Joe offered his hand to the masked man. "It's a deal."   
  


Joe thought he saw a trace of approval in those eyes as the Green Hornet took his hand. "Very good, Mr. Brown. It will be a pleasure working with a man who has the guts to take a chance for the girl he cares for."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Even though they weren't supposed to meet until after sunset, Joe had been pacing worriedly in the parking lot for at least an hour, and the sun was just starting to touch the horizon. He was not about to chance angering the Green Hornet by arriving late for their meeting. He could not risk losing his one chance of rescuing Lenore. As much as he hated the idea of dealing with the masked criminal, he realized he could not have picked a better man to deal with Wrightman.   
  


Using Joe's phone the previous night, the Green Hornet had alternately cajoled and insulted Wrightman into the best possible arrangement. Of course, the Green Hornet had managed to cut himself in for a very tidy sum. Even standing two feet away from the phone, Joe had heard Wrightman's roar of protest at the fifty thousand dollar 'fee' the Green Hornet had proposed. Wrightman had quickly quieted down when the Green Hornet had threatened to take his offer to other, higher paying, buyers.   
  


Finally the Black Beauty showed up. Despite his normally cautious manner, Joe felt a wicked surge of excitement as he slid onto the butter-soft leather seat next to the Green Hornet. During the day Joe had done some checking up on the masked criminal. He had found out that the man possessed an impressive array of weapons, including the very car they were riding in. Joe knew that he had every right to feel confident of success, but he felt a deep foreboding. The Green Hornet and his man were grimly silent during the ride to their destination. That worried him even more.   
  
  
  


A big fat yellow moon, the color of cheddar cheese, had just risen above the horizon when the Green Hornet said his first words on the drive out. "Kato," he said into the intercom, "Activate the Scanner."   
  


Joe was fascinated as Kato opened the top of the armrest to his right and flipped a switch. From the rear of the car he heard a low hum as a miniature satellite rose from the center of the car's trunk. The device lifted off in gentle spiraling flight. The Green Hornet opened a pair of doors behind the front seat, revealing a small television screen, various dials, switches and a small round screen marked with cross hairs.   
  


"Amazing," Joe murmured, watching the image from the airborne television camera, "You could make a lot of money if you sold that technology you're using. I bet everyone would love to have a color television that size with the kind of clarity you're getting there. And the military would probably pay you a lot for that flying spy camera, too."   
  


"Why would I want to do that?" the Green Hornet asked as if the idea had never occurred to him.   
  


"Well, then you wouldn't have to be the Green Hornet anymore."   
  


"Who said I'm in this for the money?"   
  


"Oh," Joe said lamely. Wondering what kind of man the Green Hornet really was, Joe hunched more deeply into the seat.   
  
  
  
  
  


The scanner flew over the broad salt flats where their destination, the small airstrip owned by the Robertson Brothers Wilderness Expeditions was located. Moon-dappled, restless waves were beating against a small dock where an amphibious aircraft was moored. Riding on the moisture filled winds were thick black clouds, but there was still more than enough light for the Scanner's sensitive lenses.   
  


"They're there already," the Green Hornet told Kato. "There's two cars and a 10-seat Cessna business aircraft near the hanger. We may have at least twenty people minus the pilot to worry about."   
  


"Could be unless they're planning on leaving on the plane. Then we won't have no more than twelve to deal with," Kato commented.   
  


"Let's hope so. The less people we have to deal with the better."   
  


"Any signs of trouble yet?" Kato asked.   
  


"Not that I can see, but that doesn't mean there won't be any." The Green switched the television screen off. "Recall the Scanner and put it to bed," he ordered. "Hit the silencer and polarize the lights. They'll be watching for us, but there's no need for them to let them know we're here any sooner than we have to."   
  


The Black Beauty silently rolled to a stop in front of the airstrip's sole structure, a weather-beaten hanger from which hung a too bright fluorescent light. The Green Hornet stepped out of the car and asked a man standing guard in front of the building. "Where's Wrightman?"   
  


"Inside," the man gruffly answered.   
  


"I have Brown and the books. If he wants them, he'll have to come out where I can see him."   
  


"What's the matter, Hornet? Don't you trust me?" Wrightman said, stepping out of the hanger. A mid-level gangster aspiring to become number one, he was dressed like a modern banker in a dark suit, white shirt and a medium-width navy tie. His blonde hair was neither too modish nor too old-fashioned, just barely brushing the top of his collar. His sideburns and dark blonde mustache were neatly trimmed, just long enough to be fashionable, but not so long as to be considered radical.   
  


"No, I don't," the Green Hornet answered coldly.   
  


Wrightman smiled, his glacial blue eyes shining in good humor. "Hey, Hornet, we're both professionals here. I want the papers and you want the money and the girl. Why don't we go inside where we can conduct business in a more civilized manner?" He nodded toward the gathering clouds. "Weather's turning right nasty," he commented.   
  


The Green Hornet looked toward the Black Beauty, then turned back to the gangster. "Open the door so we can drive in."   
  


Wrightman considered the car for a moment. "Is what I heard about it true?"   
  


The Green Hornet shrugged, "Depends on what you've heard."   
  


Wrightman's smile grew wider. "Like to cover all your bases, don't you?"   
  


The Green Hornet merely nodded his reply before stepping back into the Black Beauty.   
  


At Wrightman's signal, his man slid aside an opening in the door barely wide enough to allow the big car to pass through without scraping its sides. After they had entered, a heavy steel bar was slid home into the concrete with a loud schunk.   
  


Joe looked uneasily behind them. "What are we going to do? We can't get out now," he asked worriedly.   
  


"No problem," Kato assured him, "With the Black Beauty there's always a way out. Feels like a trap, Boss," he told the Green Hornet.   
  


"I wouldn't doubt it."   
  


"You mean you're expecting Mr. Wrightman to try something?" Joe asked.   
  


"I'd be surprised if he didn't," the Green Hornet answered. "Brown, I want you to do exactly as I tell you. If there is any trouble at all, get back to the car. It's bulletproofed. You'll be safe inside it."   
  


"What about Lenore?"   
  


"I'll take care of her," the Green Hornet said as he pulled out an antique pocket watch and pressed a button, setting off a high-pitched hum.   
  


Wrightman stood smiling like a cat who had just eaten a canary in the center of the hanger a few feet in front of a card table. Two metal folding chairs stood on either side and a large ice chest sat on the floor behind the table. Only a single row of the lights hanging from the building's high ceiling was on, leaving most of the interior in the dark. The dim outlines of boxes and crates and other kinds of miscellaneous equipment provided more than enough cover for an ambush. There could have been a small army laying in wait or a single very good sniper.   
  


"I hate people who smile so much," the Green Hornet commented. "Take him down a notch, Kato."   
  


"I aim to please," Kato answered.   
  


He eased the Black Beauty forward toward the gangster. Wrightman's grin began to droop as he started to wonder if the car was going to stop or not. Still trying to maintain his dignity, he took a step back and then another and another until he was trapped between the card table and the Black Beauty's prominent grille. Trying not to be too obvious about it, he pushed the table back a few inches until he was able to squeeze out from in front of the car. Fussily brushing at the front of his suit jacket, he went to greet the Green Hornet.   
  


"You don't need to worry about any dirt," the Green Hornet commented wryly as he stepped out of the car, "Kato keeps the Black Beauty spotless."   
  


Wrightman quickly stopped brushing. "Of course. It's a nice car. I'd like to have one like it one of these days. Maybe we can make an arrangement for you to build me one like it."   
  


"Not even in your dreams, my friend," the Green Hornet growled.   
  


Wrightman shrugged. "Too bad. Now isn't this much better," he said as the grumbling of thunder could be heard overhead. "It wouldn't do to conduct business in a driving rainstorm." He stepped over to the ice chest and flipped its lid open. "A little nervous, aren't we?" he commented when the Green Hornet pulled out the Hornet gas gun.   
  


"Let's just say I don't care for any tricks."   
  


"Of course not. No one does. But we're all friends here." He bent down and pulled out two long-necked brown bottles and a pearl handled bottle opener. "What'll you have? Heineken? Michelob? Dos Equis?"   
  


"Nothing. Where's the girl?" the Green Hornet demanded. "If she isn't here in five minutes, we'll be leaving through those doors whether they're open or not."   
  


Wrightman gave a short, barking laugh. "All business, aren't we?" With a shrug he placed the bottles back into the ice chest and closed the lid. "Have it your way then."   
  


"I believe in business first. We can celebrate over a cold beer later," the Green Hornet said smoothly. "If that doesn't agree with you . . . " He moved back toward the Black Beauty. "We'll be leaving."   
  


Wrightman raised his hand. "No, that won't be necessary. See, here she is now," he said as one of his men came from behind him, leading a blindfolded Casey into the open and carrying an attache case. "As you can see, she is quite all right."   
  


"Remove the blindfold," the Green Hornet demanded.   
  


Wrightman gave a signal and the blindfold was removed. Casey tossed her head, blinking in the light.   
  


"Are you all right, Miss Case?" the Green Hornet asked.   
  


She nodded. "I'm fine."   
  


"I have done my part," Wrightman said, "Now please turn over the materials that I have asked for."   
  


"Brown, out," the Green Hornet ordered. Joe climbed out of the Black Beauty as Kato did the same behind him. "Show Wrightman you have the stuff, but don't let him have it all yet."   
  


Joe moved cautiously past the Green Hornet and handed a black account book to the blonde gangster.   
  


Wrightman flipped through the pages. "Okay, this is one of them. There should be four more. Where's the rest of them?"   
  


"They're in the car," the Green Hornet said, "You'll get them when you hand over the money."   
  


"Whatever you say," Wrightman said as he took the attache case from his man. He opened it and showed the Green Hornet its contents. "Fifty grand, just like you asked for."   
  


"Give it to the girl," the Green Hornet ordered.   
  


Wrightman handed the attache case to Casey and escorted her to the Black Beauty. He stopped when Kato stepped in front of him, barring his way.   
  


"Okay, okay, I can take a hint," Wrightman said. "Hey, no harm meant. Can I have my stuff now?"   
  


The Green Hornet nodded to Joe. "Give him the rest," he said.   
  


Joe removed from the Black Beauty's back seat a battered tan briefcase and handed it over to the gangster.   
  


"Do you mind if I check it out?" Wrightman asked.   
  


"Go ahead," replied the Green Hornet.   
  


Wrightman placed the briefcase on the card table, forced its balky catch open and pulled out four black account books. He looked up at the Green Hornet. "Everything's here. Now how about a little celebration?" he said crouching beside the ice chest and lifting its lid.   
  


"Some other time . . . "   
  


The rest of the Green Hornet's words were lost in the thunderous roar from the whippet in Wrightman's hands. The blast from both barrels of the small shotgun caught the Green Hornet full in the chest, flinging him backwards several feet.   
  


"No!" Casey screamed in horror. Never had she intended this to happen. She ran toward the Green Hornet's too-still body.   
  


Joe roughly grabbed her arm, pulling her away. "Let's get out of here," he yelled, hoping they could get away before the Green Hornet's man could react. 

Kato, cursed under his breath, _idiot. _Joe was supposed to make sure he and Miss Case got into the Black Beauty. Instead they were running away from the car. And safety.   
  


"Get them!" Wrightman screamed as he fired on the chauffeur. The blast from the whippet struck the driver's side door just as Kato opened it. Pellets pinged and bounced like metallic hail against the door but did not make the slightest dent.   
  


Bullets zinging out from behind the crates and boxes bit the concrete at Brown's and Casey's feet as they ran. Joe had spotted the outlines of a small plane on the other side of the building and barely visible behind it, a door.   
  


Wrightman smiled as he pulled out a battleship-grey .45 automatic. He still kept the whippet under his arm as he checked the automatic. The chauffeur was stuck in the car, safe, but unable to do anything. If he dared get out of the car, Wrightman would blast him. He sauntered over to where the Green Hornet laid unmoving. There was no way the man could have survived the blast, but he wanted to make absolutely sure.   
  


A slight frown appeared when he noticed that there was no blood. _Should've been splattered everywhere,_ he thought. _Oh well, a bullet in the brain will make sure of things. _ He aimed the automatic at the Green Hornet's head. _ Right between the eyes. _His fingers squeezed the trigger. Suddenly the Green Hornet twisted. One foot lashed out, striking Wrightman's hand and sending the gun spinning into the air. Before the surprised gangster could bring the whippet forward, the Green Hornet launched himself at the man, burying a fist into his unprotected belly. All fight taken out of him, Wrightman fell to the ground, cursing and groaning from the pain.   
  


The Green Hornet took a few precious moments to get his bearings. The impact from the shotgun had been almost too much. Kato had started the car, but Casey and Brown were not in it. Then he spotted them running toward the back of the hanger. They were literally in a shooting gallery. Unaware their leader was out for the count the gunmen were firing on the escaping couple from several directions. Without cover there was no way they were going to make it.   
  


The Green Hornet pulled out several flare bombs and lobbed them out into the center of the open space. The gunmen would be only be blinded for a short time. Kato would be able to use the Black Beauty as a shield, but the Green Hornet had to catch up with Casey and Brown before the effects of the flares wore off.   
  


They had barely made the shelter of the plane when the Green Hornet caught up with them. He rounded on Brown, "Why the hell, didn't you do what I told you? I told you to get back into the car if there was trouble. Why didn't you do it?"   
  


Stammering under the Green Hornet's accusations, Brown rubbed at still half blinded eyes. "I'm sorry, but I thought . . . "   
  


"You're still alive!" Casey gasped, "How in the world? We saw you shot in the chest by a shotgun blast."   
  


"It's amazing what you can hide under a coat like mine," the Green Hornet answered, showing the ruined front of his topcoat A thick black vest could be seen through the shredded fabric.   
  


"A bulletproof vest!" Casey exclaimed. "But . . . " she began.   
  


"I don't usually wear one. At twenty-five pounds the damn thing's too heavy to wear all the time. Since Wrightman's known to favor a whippet, I thought it'd be a good idea to play it safe this time," the Green Hornet explained.   
  


Joe watched the Green Hornet closely as he spoke. There was something familiar about the man. The black-brown hair tumbling over the top edge of the mask, the square jaw, the timbre of his voice . . . "You're Britt Reid, Lenore's boss," he said when the revelation struck him.   
  


The Green Hornet glared at him. "You're nuts. Ask your lady-friend. She knows her boss better than you do."   
  


"Lenore?"   
  


Casey shook her head. "No, he's not Mr. Reid," she said, not daring to look him in the eyes for fear he might see that she was lying.   
  


"Good, now that's settled, let's get out of here," the Green Hornet said as he grasped Casey's arm.   
  


At Casey's gasp he turned to see the ugly, grey muzzle of the .45 pointed at his chest. Wrightman's carefully built facade had been stripped away. His clothes were in complete disarray. His loosened tie was all askew and his hair was no longer neatly combed. All that remained was his smile, but it was no longer that of a fashionable businessman, but instead that of a cold-blooded shark. The muzzle of the gun shifted toward a spot between the Green Hornet's eyes. "I bet that mask is no good at stopping bullets." His finger tightened on the trigger.   
  


Joe launched himself at the gangster, landing on top of him on the floor. The two men flailed around for the gun. The air rippled with the rumbling of thunder as rain began pounding against the hanger's tin roof. Joe was the heavier, but had no idea what to do in a fight, unlike Wrightman. Wrightman slammed the gun across Joe's face and kicked him off. Thunder boomed again to be echoed by the thunder from the automatic.   
  


Wrightman's grin of triumph dissolved into a mass of broken teeth as the Green Hornet's fist slammed into his expensive dental work. The gangster stumbled over Joe's still body, losing the gun in the process. He caught himself only for a moment before a powerful blow from the Green Hornet slammed him into the side of the plane. Under the Green Hornet's merciless assault, Wrightman's handsome face disappeared into a bloody mess. Finally the gangster slid bonelessly to the ground.   
  


The Green Hornet shook himself with a shudder as the red rage of anger left him. He knelt next to Casey who was holding Joe in her arms. A grey fog surrounded them, so that there was only the three of them and nothing else to be seen. Released as a smoke screen from the Black Beauty, it rolled gently around them, an insulating blanket that isolated and protected them from danger. For a moment grief was their only reality.   
  


Tears fell down Casey's cheeks as she held Joe close to her as a mother would a child. "Joe, please don't die, please," she pleaded.   
  


Joe's eyes fluttered open. "I'm sorry, Lenore. It shouldn't have happened like this." He winced and tried to smile. "But loving you was worth it all." He reached for the Green Hornet with a trembling hand. "I know you'll take good care of her. I know the truth about you now. I was wrong."   
  


The Green Hornet placed his hand over Joe's, "I was wrong too, I'm sorry."   
  


"Joe!" Casey screamed as the light went out of Joe's eyes. "Do something," she pleaded, "Britt, do something. He can't die!"   
  


The Green Hornet bowed his head. "I can't do anything Casey, he's gone."   
  


"Boss," Kato said as he appeared out of the slowly dissipating smoke. He tossed the Hornet gas gun to Green Hornet. The Black Beauty was barely visible behind him as a dark shadow. "It's time to go." His warning was punctuated by the thin wail of police sirens.   
  


"Miss Case," the Green Hornet said, gently grasping Casey's shoulder as he rose to his feet, "We have to go now."   
  


Sobbing uncontrollable beside Joe's body, Casey looked up at the Green Hornet. "I'm staying here."   
  


"I can't leave you here, some of Wrightman's boys might still be around. I don't want you to be caught in the middle in case there's gunfire," he insisted, trying to gently pull her away.   
  


"No!" she screamed. "I'm not going anywhere with you! It's all your fault. This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't interfered. But you had to, like you always have to. You always have to be the big man, the big hero. And look what you've done. Because of you a dear, sweet man is dead," she sobbed.   
  


"Casey, you don't know what you're saying," the Green Hornet replied, trying to lift her to her feet. The sirens were louder now, nearly drowning out his words. "We have to go."   
  


Casey slapped him hard across the face. "Then go! I never want to ever see you again!" she screamed hatefully through her tears.   
  


Stung more by her words than by the slap, the Green Hornet looked helplessly at Kato. With downcast eyes Kato shook his head sadly.   
  


"I'm sorry, Casey," the Green Hornet said, knowing that she didn't hear him, nor did she want to. Regretfully he followed Kato back to the Black Beauty.   
  


From the car's back seat the Green Hornet could see Casey hunched over Joe's body. "Boss?" Kato's said quietly.   
  


"Let's get out of here," the Green Hornet replied as he pulled down the rocket control panel. He had to tear his thoughts away from the girl crying on the cold concrete floor. It was going to hard enough to get away from the police without thinking about Casey and her grief. 


	6. VI

VI   
  
  
  


Casey found planting the rose on Joe's grave oddly comforting. The warm, rich soil felt good in her hands and its earthy smell was soothing to her troubled spirit. The sun's warmth felt good against her back. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. With the back of her hand, she swept away a tear from her dirt streaked face. Then she firmly settled the miniature rose into the hole and began to gently push dirt around its base. Spotting a worm wriggling in the loose soil, she pulled it free. For a moment she watched it wiggling about in her hand, then smiling gently, she laid it into the dirt around the rose. Instinctively the earthworm slowly dug its way back into the safety of the dirt. She placed the rest of the dirt into the hole and pressed it firmly around the rose's base.   
  


It was a beautiful rose, perfection in miniature. Set against deep moss-green leaves, its tightly closed buds were yellow blushing to deep crimson. The single open flower, with an interior of deep golden yellow was a perfect duplicate of a far larger tea rose. She breathed deeply from the little flower. For something so tiny, it had the deep heady scent of vintage wine. The rose was a lot like Joe, she thought. It wasn't much to look at from a distance. You had to get closer to see that it was truly something special. Joe had also told her that even though they looked delicate and frail, miniature roses did not do well inside hot houses. It was outside, exposed to the vagaries of the weather, that they did their best.   
  


Falling over the headstone, a shadow came between Casey and the sun. She flinched at the familiar voice. "That's a pretty flower," Britt said.   
  


"Please go away," she said, forcing herself not to turn around.   
  


A deep sigh, and the shadow shifted as Britt moved to crouch beside her. "I'm sorry about Brown. I didn't want things to turn out the way they did."   
  


"You were jealous of him," Casey accused as she locked her gaze on the flower.   
  


"Yes, I was," Britt admitted. "But that didn't affect the way I handled things. If anything, it made me want to be more careful than usual, because I didn't want you hurt."   
  


Casey shook her head in denial, trying to stay angry, trying to hate him, trying not to think of the horror she had felt when she had seen his body struck by the shotgun blast. "You're lying. You just do whatever you want to do without caring about who you hurt in the process."   
  


"You know me better than that," Britt answered. "You know I care very much about what happens to other people. If I didn't, I'd be content sit behind my desk at the Sentinel and not give a damn about what was going on around me. 

But I can't do that. I'm not built that way. I can't sit by and watch people like Wrightman threaten this city and the people in it. I have to do something about it. Unfortunately sometimes people do get hurt."   
  


"Like Joe," Casey bitterly reminded him.   
  


"Yes, like Joe," Britt agreed, "And you. I tried not to get you involved in this. I wanted to find out the truth about Wrightman and Joe. If Joe was dirty I wanted hard evidence of it before talking to you about it. I knew you would never believe me otherwise." Britt grimaced, "Unfortunately, I was wrong about Joe. I did let my personal feelings get in the way. I'm sorry about that. You have to believe me that I never wanted to hurt you.   
  


"Wrightman forced my hand by kidnaping you. It was all I could do to stop Joe from going after Wrightman by himself. If I hadn't 'interfered' you and Joe would be dead now. I tried my best, but I can't control everything. Sometimes things go sour. It's not anyone's fault, it just happens."   
  


"Joe was a sweet, wonderful man . . . " Casey began.   
  


"Yes, he was," Britt admitted.   
  


Still keeping her back to Britt, still avoiding looking at him, Casey started to pick up her tools. "It took him years to develop this rose. He was very proud of it. He said that he was going to plant it once he had found the right house," her voice caught in her throat, "For us. He was going to name it Lenore."   
  


Britt raised his hand to comfort her, but seeing her tense, he lowered it. "What are you going to do now?" he asked.   
  


Casey shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'll go home and live with my parents for a while."   
  


"Your job at the Sentinel is still open." Britt paused, taking a deep breath. "The Sentinel needs you."   
  


Casey looked at him, studying his face, focusing on his unusual pale blue-green eyes. "And what about you?" she asked.   
  


"I don't know what to say, Casey. I've been in the newspaper business all my life. You might say words are my business. But I write editorials and news stories. I'm not a poet or songwriter. All I know is that I have been completely miserable the past two weeks without you at the paper. It's like there's this big hole in my life that I just can't fill. But whether that's love or not, I don't know.   
  


"I've lost so many people in my life, first my mother when I only a little kid, and then my father when he died in prison. And with this Green Hornet business. There's so much uncertainty. Any time it could blow up in all our faces. I don't know if I am capable of love or even if I should."   
  


Britt sighed, "All I know Casey is that I want you back." He licked his lips uncertainly. "I need you, Casey," he admitted.   
  


Casey buried herself in his arms. They felt so strong and reassuring. She began to cry. "I shouldn't have ever encouraged him. I didn't mean to. He was so nice and I didn't want to hurt his feelings," she said through the hot tears.   
  


Britt winced slightly. Despite the bulletproof vest, his chest was still badly bruised from the shotgun blast. When she tried to pulled away, he pulled her closer. He stroked her hair, shooshing away her sobs. "You didn't do anything wrong."   
  


"But Mr. Reid . . . " she began, looking up at him.   
  


"Call me Britt," he said, tenderly wiping away her tears with his hand.   
  


With a ghost of a smile shining through her tears, she whispered, "Britt."   
  



End file.
